Immortal Trust

by Claire Ashgrove

  Lucan stiffened as something else caught his attention. A distinct odor he had not smelled all morning.

  The scent of rot.

  Slowly, he turned. Every bit of his warrior’s attention honed in on Chloe’s brother. Faint, but present nonetheless, the foul odor wafted off his clothing. Muscles bunched, the instinct to kill as prominent as the sun in the cloudless sky above.

  Though he could not explain how, or why, Lucan looked upon some dark creation of Azazel’s foul design. One thought rose in his mind—Chloe.

  Damnation! The one person she was closest to posed the greatest threat. A threat he could not contain or eliminate with her entire team looking on.

  He ground out an answer through clenched teeth. “The trunk will be dealt with when the time is right.” Unwilling to waste any more time than necessary, he hurried to the SUV. Only one thing would ensure her safety. The oath. He must extract it now.

  * * *

  Chloe stretched beneath the covers, unable to tamp down her wide smile. She felt better than she had in years. A little achy, but nothing that the memories of Lucan’s body gliding in and out of hers wouldn’t soothe. Eyes closed, she reached an arm across her the bed to pet his strong arm. When nothing but the mattress, not even warm at that, met her groping fingers, she sat up and looked around.

  Alone. Not even the sound of running water in the bathroom to indicate he was taking a shower.

  A fission of dismay ebbed down to her toes. Damn. There was nothing worse than going to bed with a man and waking up without him. She loved the freedom to roll over, snuggle close, bask in a few thorough kisses before she had to haul herself out of bed and face a day of work.

  Work. The thought crashed into her awareness like a hammer on glass. Ugh. Lucan had promised to wake her. Now, instead of facing down Julian’s annoyance over a single missed day, she’d have to suck it up and take his lecture about sleeping in late too.

  She looked to the clock to confirm the bright light filtering through the drawn curtains meant it was far later than her preferred six o’clock. Really, verifying was unnecessary. Just before she’d resigned herself to Lucan’s complete domination of her body and her mind, the bright neon blue digits heralded a quarter to six. She scolded herself anyway, when she read 8:15.

  Time for a shower.

  Unfolding her legs, she climbed out of bed and stumbled to the bathroom, where she turned on the water. A long look in the mirror made all the lack of sleep from the night before as obvious as daylight. Dark circles clung beneath her eyes. Long red creases across her cheek marked the place she’d crashed into oblivion.

  Chloe stifled a giggle. She should be annoyed, not amused.

  Still, it felt so damned wonderful to carry the secret knowledge that she’d given herself, several times over, to Lucan. Handsome Lucan with his gray eyes and long black hair. Intense Lucan, who refused to let her hide behind fear. Strong Lucan, who empowered her to confront the demons and gave her the gift of self-preservation. Good Lord, how could she have hoped to not love him? She’d been doomed the very day he walked into her trailer and lifted that taunting eyebrow, fully aware she found his imposingly large build amazing.

  At the memory, she did giggle. He’d known all along. Dared her from the start to accept it. Pushed her until she had no choice but to cave.

  Now, she wouldn’t take any of it back. He’d done everything he could to prove himself to her. It was time to take a leap of faith and listen to her heart. Listen to him. Not her brother. Not the little nagging voice that urged her to be cautious and keep Lucan at a distance.

  Nope. She was done with all of that. She’d cast it aside somewhere between his lifting her to her knees and when her confession of love slipped out. Now it was time to start concentrating on Lucan and returning to him what he gave so freely to her. She’d start the minute he returned. No matter how late she was to the site, she’d treat Lucan to breakfast and spend a bit of quality time with him before work demanded their mutual attention. Maybe breakfast in bed.

  Yes, that’s exactly what she’d do. She’d call room service and have breakfast ready for him when he returned. It wasn’t much, but it was a start. A beginning.

  She pushed the shower curtain back and stepped under the spray, knowing she ought to hurry but, for the first time since she’d set foot in Egypt’s sands, unable to care. Work, relics, scrolls, and secrets—all she wanted to do was crawl back into that bed, wait for Lucan to return, and spend the rest of the afternoon learning everything she could about him. Not just his body, that she knew quite well. His flavor was salty. All male. Not a bit of him was small. Every square inch of his skin responded to her touch. And they fit together all too perfectly.

  No, today she longed to learn about his past. About that ancestor who had once been part of the noble Knights Templar and all the secrets that had been passed down through generations. Truth be told, learning Lucan’s family history held more excitement than the damned relic she knew would come back as what he claimed.

  Lathering her hair, she hummed to herself. Two years of Blake hadn’t made her feel this energized. Even on the nights that she had fallen into exhaustion after an especially vigorous round of sex, she hadn’t felt this … this …

  She frowned, searching for the word. Everything that came to mind felt trite. Like words stolen from someone else’s fantasy, not hers. Still, she couldn’t escape the haunting answer, no matter how unoriginal it might be. Complete. Lucan put all her missing stuffing back into holes she didn’t know existed and stitched her fraying seams shut.

  The soap ran from her hair to pool at her feet. While she bathed, hating the fact she washed him off her skin, she let the conditioner soak in. Her hands stilled as a terrifying prospect tugged at her mind.

  Condoms. Dear God, not once in the course of the night had they used a bit of protection. Shit!

  She stumbled as she reached for the towel bar to stop the sudden buzzing in her head. Oh no. This couldn’t be good. When Blake had left, she’d been so certain she wasn’t going to get mixed up with someone she’d stopped her shots. Declined the pill. And her cycle had been about two weeks ago.

  Shit!

  Lucan she could deal with. Even loving him. A baby? No way, no how. Not for another several years.

  She pulled in a deep breath and stared at the shower tiles. Her mind ran in circles. She’d have to make a trip into Verdun and find a clinic. France had all kinds of morning-after solutions. This wasn’t the end of the world. She’d suck up her embarrassment and ask Lucan to take her to the neighboring city. He surely wouldn’t care. For that matter, he’d probably be relieved she thought of it so soon.

  Feeling much more calm, she ducked her head under the shower and rinsed for the last time. As she reached for the faucets, she heard the bedroom door close. For an instant, disappointment pulled through her. So much for her breakfast idea.

  In the next moment, her pulse picked up at the very knowledge he was in the nearby room. What he could do to her was simply mystifying. One glance, and her heart tripped into her ribs. One touch, and she turned into a puddle.

  Another giggle broke free, and Chloe turned off the water.

  CHAPTER 34

  All thoughts of oaths and seraphs fled Lucan’s mind as Chloe exited the bathroom. Fully naked, she greeted him with a smile that pulled his heart into his throat and turned his cock into hewn steel. Her long hair dripped at her waist. Water ran in rivulets over full, creamy breasts. And not a stitch of modesty clung to her as she waltzed across the room to welcome him with a kiss.

  His arms wound around her waist, instinct driving him to urge her back to the bed and repeat last night. Saints’ toes, a small portion of last night would satisfy. He cared not, as long as her lips remained on his and her body fit beneath him.

  Chloe evidently had different designs. She eased out of his embrace, caught his hand, and led him to the couch. His baser nature rebelled. Not the couch. ’Twas too confining. Too short to do naught mo
re than kneel between her legs.

  But when she urged him to sit and planted her bare bottom in his lap, the couch took on greater appeal. Aye, sitting would do just fine. He could wind her legs around his waist and suckle at her breast as he slid into her silken warmth.

  He fitted his palm against the curve of her buttock, urging her leg into the position he desired.

  She laughed, evading his seeking mouth. “We need to talk, Lucan. Stop before you remove my ability to think.”

  Think. Aye, he needed a good strong dose of logic as well. They had much to talk about. Although his cock might protest, he could not indulge when her brother was so near at hand. He must explain. Must demand her oath, whether she understood it fully or not.

  Sobering, he tried to ignore the press of her body against his ready erection and focused on the movement of her lips.

  “I need you to take me into Verdun today, please. Then we should get out to the site.”

  When that soft pink mouth only conjured visions of the way she had clamped her lips around his throbbing shaft, he groaned aloud and dropped his head to the back of the couch. He ran a frustrated hand through his hair. “Dress. I can focus on naught when you are like this.”

  Her giggle nearly undid him. The press of her hand against his chest had him sucking in a sharp breath. When she drifted that dangerous palm lower and flattened it over his all-too-willing member, he hissed.

  “This is exactly what I’m talking about.”

  He gave her a perplexed look. “What is your meaning?”

  To his dismay, her hand fell away. Color crept into her cheeks, and she lowered her head. Shy. He would have sworn she had moved beyond that.

  “Chloe?”

  “We haven’t used any protection, and no matter how badly I want you—want this—I need to find a clinic. I wasn’t exactly … prepared for you.”

  Oh aye, she had been more than prepared for him. He would wager she was now. But they spoke of two different meanings, and hers was more than clear. Sitting up, he let out a disparaging sigh. “Nay, ’tis no need. I cannot father children.”

  She blinked. “You’ve been … snipped?”

  Regret he had never once expected to feel turned his stomach into a hard knot. But then, he had never expected he could care so much for one woman that the archangels’ curse would matter. “Nay,” he answered more quietly. “I am sterile.” As the bitter confession made its way from the dregs of his soul, he found more strength in his voice. “I am healthy as well.”

  “Oh.” Her wide eyes blinked once more, then she searched his face, as if she looked for something that would contradict his claims. “Are you certain? I mean, I’ve heard stories. Men who thought they were, and then—”

  He placed a finger to her lips, silencing the questions he could not bear to hear. “’Tis been confirmed, Chloe. A father I shall never be.”

  “Oh.” This time, her quiet answer held a note of unmistakable dismay. His heart twisted at the touch of sorrow. He would have liked to someday honor what she apparently held so dear. But in time, she too would come to accept the loss of what they could never have. ’Twould not hold such poison when they had eons with each other.

  Which reminded him of all else he needed to discuss with her. His desire now flat, he sat up fully and caught her hands in his. “I too wish to talk to you. I have been at the site.” He inclined his head toward the table behind them. “Your logs from yesterday are there. And I observed something of interest.”

  “Really?” Curiosity replaced the dull light in her eyes. “What?”

  “A dagger and a ring. Both are Templar. I would wish to have your permission to return them.”

  As he had anticipated, she tensed. Her mouth pursed, and her back turned as stiff as a board. “That’s stealing.”

  “Nay. ’Tis only stealing if the object does not belong to you.”

  “But something like that doesn’t belong to you or the Church. It’s part of history, Lucan. It deserves to be shared with the people of the world. Even your ancestors would appreciate that.”

  Her emphatic position on something as relatively insignificant as a dagger and a ring said little for the way she would receive the rest of his news. ’Twould take every bit of patience he possessed to make her believe in who he was. What they both were. And pointing out that the birthmark on his buttocks matched the one on her shoulder and proclaimed something greater would accomplish naught more than another of her amused giggles.

  “The Templar secrets are not meant to be shared with the world. ’Twas a reason they hid themselves away. A purpose that their existence reveals, and the artifacts you speak of link them to that purpose, if they are correctly traced.”

  “And so what?” She folded her arms over her bare breasts. “They are dead. Whatever drove them underground—politics, debts, heresy, you name it—no longer exists. You don’t want them linked to the Church? Fine, we don’t have to publish that they came from the same excavation plot. We can document the finding and quietly let the information slide.”

  “They are not dead.”

  His low response snapped her mouth closed. In the next heartbeat it fell open with a whispered, “What?”

  Lucan pulled in a deep breath. ’Twas not how he had planned to start this conversation. He had intended to approach it more like an engagement. With the torc as an offering to a confession of unyielding love.

  Nevertheless, he had said too much. He could not stop now. “The Holy Order of the Knights Templar is not dead. It exists. I am a part of it, not my ancestor.”

  He read her disbelief in the narrowing of her brow. Felt it in the absence of her hands, as she pulled them away from his body. Heard it in her short laugh.

  Before she could completely vacate his lap, he caught her hands and held them tight. “I am a Templar knight, Chloe. And you are part of the Templar purpose. Of my purpose.”

  An insistent hammering on his door cut off the rest of his explanation. Lucan let out a harassed sigh and tipped his head back. “Begone!”

  “Monsieur! Je suis désolé, il est important!”

  At the concierge’s frantic French, Lucan frowned. Important? Naught could be more important than this conversation.

  The furious pounding, however, argued his belief. “Monsieur!”

  Lucan eased Chloe off his lap and motioned for her to don the shirt he had worn the night before. As she pulled it over her head and quickly added her underwear, he crossed to the door. Harassed beyond imagination, he yanked it open to stare at the smaller, agitated man.

  “Monsieur, I am so sorry. You did not answer soon enough. I could not stop—”

  Two burly members of the gendarmerie shouldered the château’s representative aside and barged into the room. Julian followed on their heels. He spared Chloe only a passing glance before he thrust a finger at Lucan’s chest. “That’s him. That’s the man.”

  Before Lucan could do more than blink, the two gendarmes wrested his arms behind his back and hurtled him toward the door. He sank his weight into their determined push, thwarting their efforts to shove him into the hall. “Release me. I have done naught.”

  Behind him, Chloe cried, “Julian! What’s going on?”

  No sooner had the question broken through the air than Gareth appeared in the doorway. He took one look at Lucan, bound between the two guards, and scowled at Julian.

  Confronted by not one, but two men who easily doubled them in size, the gendarmes evidently found it prudent to cease their insistent shoving at Lucan’s back. Instead, they twisted his arms painfully toward his shoulder blades, forcing him to submit. He bit back a rush of anger and complied. Fighting would only give them further grounds.

  “Julian!” Chloe latched on to her brother’s arm. “Tell me what is going on!”

  “I’ll tell you what’s going on.” He shook off her hold to fling his hand at Lucan once again. “He’s played you for a fool. I caught him in the trailer today looking at that signet ring and silv
er dagger. When he left, the ring went with him.”

  “You lie!” Lucan thundered. He surged forward to wrap his hands around Julian’s neck, but the sharp twist of his arms stopped him in his tracks.

  Chloe’s eyes widened like saucers. Her lower lip quivered, and she looked between the two men. “You can’t be serious, Julian. Lucan wouldn’t steal. We were just talking about those items.”

  Saints’ love her, she had faith in him. Lucan sagged at her words. This would end in moments, and when it did, ’twould be Julian who left in the guards’ escort. When he managed to free himself from the jail, Lucan would be there to pound him back to the hell he had come from. God’s teeth, could no one else smell the stench that rolled off him?

  “Check his coat. He probably pocketed the damn thing. Though I wouldn’t be surprised to find it empty either. We’ll have to check his car.”

  Chloe hesitated, her gaze straying to the coat Lucan had carelessly flung over the back of the couch. A deep foreboding crept down his spine as he too looked at the leather. Julian had brought his coat out. ’Twas no gesture to hurry him away from the site. ’Twas blackmail. Lucan had no doubt that whatever trinket Julian claimed was missing would lie within his pocket.

  Bloody Christ!

  He struggled against his captors’ hold, determined to break free and choke the life out of Julian. At least that would be a crime worth punishment. For when Chloe discovered a relic in his coat pocket, he would suffer far greater.

  ’Twas Gareth who dared to pick up the coat. He shoved his hand inside, his gaze locked on Lucan, conveying he understood the truth.

  And the likely outcome.

  Lucan knew the moment Gareth’s hand touched the relic. His eyes closed a fraction. His jaw tensed. A breath of air hissed through clenched teeth.

  It took all of Lucan’s self-control not to bellow in rage as Gareth pulled his hand free and opened it to reveal le Goix’s Templar ring. He stamped down the fury, turned pleading eyes on Chloe. Silently, he begged her to believe in all she knew about him. He had no reason to take the relic. He would have never touched it had she denied him permission to return it as he wanted to.